Petals
by sleep learning
Summary: They remained that way for quite some time, Ichigo looking up at Yumichika with a mixture of accusation and confusion, the fifth seat crouched beside him, the flower held in his hand like a precious treasure


The recovery room was unbearably boring. From his resting place – a futon on the floor- Ichigo had nothing of value to look at, nothing to distract him from his convalescing. He'd been given a mild sedative and then left alone to recover in a vacant room of the 10th Division, provided by an awkward and almost apologetic Hitsugaya. Inoue -having witnessed the incident- had taken it upon herself to leave 'health inspiring' food and flowers, which Ichigo now glared at, trying to ignore the disconcerting feeling in his abdomen as he felt his own organs rearrange themselves back into position while his muscles rejoined underneath his skin.

_Stupid Hitsugaya_. Well, it wasn't really Hitsugaya's fault, he'd simply reacted instinctively. _Stupid reiatsu_. Then again, Ichigo wasn't ready to blame himself either. If anything, the stupid person, the one to blame was-

"Ah, how's the patient?"

The door slid closed with an elegant hand as Yumichika crossed the room to Ichigo, his feet silent and graceful.

"Go away"

Ichigo tried to turn on his side, failing miserably with an unwelcomed wince.

"You can't still be mad at me?" Yumichika seemed completely unbothered by Ichigo's aggressive attitude as he inspected the plain vase with slight disdain.

"This is all _Your_ fault!"

"Don't strain yourself. Yamada Hanataro told me you had to remain relaxed, not over exert yourself too soon"

"Argh! I wouldn't have to if you weren't such a moron! I can't believe you. I hate you."

Ichigo thought he heard a muffled 'Vulgar', though he was sure it was more for the vase than his shouting.

"I fail to see how it is my fault Captain Hitsugaya skewered you with several ice poles. If anything, it's your fault for releasing such a high level force-

"YOU GROPED ME! How was I supposed to-

"Grope is such an ugly word Ichigo –

"I don't care what the hell it is. What were you-

"I didn't _'grope'_ you either; I was simply letting my presence be known"

"You flash stepped into my training with Hitsugaya and your hands... you… how was I supposed to react?"

"Like an adult"

"Aaaaargh. Leave me alone."

Yumichika continued to show no remorse, or even interest, instead rearranging the flowers while Ichigo stared stubbornly at the ceiling.

It wasn't even the incident that bothered him the most. He was used to getting ripped apart from various sword related incidents. He was sure Hitsugaya had remained oblivious to the cause of Ichigo's sudden outburst too. His frustration lay with the hands that had put him in the recovery room. The hands and the owner of those hands.

He'd been shifting his weight, pulling back for a left side strike of Zangetsu when the lightest of touches had swept across his back. It was meant to be a quick movement, but in Bankai mode, everything had been executed in tantalising slow motion. Fingers had brushed across his neck before tracing down his spine through his uniform, causing Ichigo to loose complete control and resulting in a _Guncho Tsurara _straight to the chest by an extremely confused Hitsugaya.

Yumichika probably hadn't expected him to react so violently, but Ichigo had the distinct impression that he didn't care either. Yumichika seemed to be content to toy with him –or at least- it seemed that way to Ichigo.

It wasn't like he had had any expectations when they had initiated their obscure relationship, but he couldn't help feel like he wasn't being treated equally.

Yumichika would breeze in, completely confident, engage briefly with Ichigo, then leave just as gracefully, with Ichigo feeling completely dazed and drowning in hormonal confusion. They both knew he wasn't exactly experienced, so he had assumed the direction would be given by Yumichika. He was a fast learner, he was definitely a willing one, and he just wasn't being given a chance to prove it. The point of being with someone more than 100 years older than him was that sex was expected, with no qualms of timing or waiting or…Ichigo sighed. Their conversation in the garden was brought to the forefront of his mind and he couldn't help but feel a little disappointed. Yumichika probably just wasn't interested. Wasn't attracted…_hadn't he been of value? Wasn't he supposed to be…_

Ichigo felt something soft being dragged across his cheek, perfumed and cool against his skin. He turned, finding Yumichika above him, lightly caressing his skin with a flower from the vase. No doubt Yumichika thought the flower was beautiful. Didn't he find something else beautiful? About Ichigo? In that moment he realized, Yumichika was dragging everything out. Prolonging the ending. He'd said it himself

"_Definitely innocence. To take it away would be beautiful."_ That meant, when everything was done, the beauty would be gone, and Yumichika with it.

"It's a Lily"

"I don't care"

"Don't you find it beautiful, Kurosaki?"

"It's a flower. Who cares if it looks nice?"

Yumichika remained silent, still stroking Ichigo's face, and Ichigo continued, feeling angry and resentful and wishing Yumichika would feel even slightly the same.

"Who cares about a flower? It's useless"

"I do. I think a flower has such a sad fate. To love a flower, and wish to keep it for yourself you must first sever it. No matter what you do though, it eventually dies. It's quite unfair"

"Whatever…"

The caressing of his face with the flower ceased and Ichigo looked up to see Yumichika's face, saddened and angry.

They remained that way for quite some time, Ichigo looking up at Yumichika with a mixture of accusation and confusion, the fifth seat crouched beside him, the flower held in his hand like a precious treasure.

"You're not jealous of a flower are you, Kurosaki?" his tone was mocking and Ichigo replied instantly, face flushed and eyes bright with anger.

"I feel like I am the flower!"

Yumichika laughed, infuriating him even more.

"Oh, you're no flower I know of."

"No? Well, isn't it the same though? You're just… just gonna get all happy with the pretty part, then when we're all done you're going to leave and… I'm sick of not knowing when. I mean, sure leave, whatever, but you don't even let me know where this is going." He tried to turn away from the fifth seat again, failing as Yumichika held him down by his shoulders, dropping the flower on his chest.

"Just because the flower withers away, doesn't change why you cut it in the first place. It may be gone, but you still love the flower. You still remember why you wanted it in the first place."

Ichigo stared up at him, shocked, his mouth gaping.

"I thought…. I mean…you're not talking um... love…just the..."

Yumichika smirked, taking the flower in his hand again and with great care, straddled Ichigo. The flower brushed his nose, following the line of symmetry down past his chin. The slow, feathery touches raised goose bumps as it travelled down his chest and made circling motions on his stomach.

Ichigo let out a series of shaky breathes, watching the curling petals send shivers through his body. His eyes locked onto the delicate fingers that made sweeping motions, hovering above him, following the shape of the arm that connected to the lithe body resting above him.

"I think you should be made to acknowledge, _Ichigo,_ that flowers have some use."

Yumichika smiled, his gaze predatory as Ichigo closed his eyes, his teeth biting on his lower lip. The flower dipped along his side, following the curve of his ribs back and forth. The movements were light, barely grazing his skin, sending his nerves on fire. A petal brushed his hips as Ichigo struggled to stay still, his chest rising heavily and falling back in a shaky manner. The room remained almost quiet, punctuated by the rythum of Ichigo's restrained breaths.

The flower was brought along his body again quickly, sweeping over a nipple while at the same moment Yumichika leant closer, his weight settling more firmly on Ichigo as the boy beneath him let out of grunt that seemed to crumble in his throat and escape like a muted cry.

The petal was placed over his lips, the perfume surrounding him as the whisper of warm breaths passed over his neck. With eyes closed, he could picture the smile of curved, smooth lips unbearably close to his skin. Ichigo's gasps were becoming louder and sharper and Yumichika pushed down on his shoulders as he unconsciously began to struggle. Unable to move, Ichigo arched his back, the fifth seat mimicking his actions in a bid to keep the contact at a minimum. He arched higher again as the breaths returned, falling along his chest, down the hollow beneath his ribs and onto the soft skin bordered by the cloth of his pants. Ichigo's shoulders were released, the hands reappearing around his wrists as the cloth was slowly pulled away from his body. Confused, Ichigo lifted his head, gazing through half lidded eyes and panting heavily, to witness Yumichika, his teeth catching on Ichigo's pants and dragging them down.

He moaned, his head hitting the floor again as he lifted his hips to allow Yumichika to pull the cloth further. He felt the gentle touch of hair fanning around his pelvis, the warm breath hovering over his erection, the grip around his wrist becoming tighter, and he waited. His head turned, facing the now discarded flower, his eyes shut tight again as a cheek brushed the inside of thigh, coming back again to caress him from base to crown. Another cry died in his throat as he felt the warm, slick sensation of a tongue swirling, delicate lips pressed lightly around him. Ichigo gave in completely, calling out as Yumichika engulfed him, inch by inch, his grip on Ichigo's wrist bruising as he sucked. Ichigo thrusted upwards, falling in sync with the motions of the fifth seat, building rhythm, until he froze, forgetting to breathe out and arching higher as he came, mouth open as he let out a harsh grunt, landing back onto the futon slowly.

Ichigo lay panting, his chest moving erratically as Yumichika continued to lick, slow and deliberate, cleaning him. His pants were pulled back to an acceptable place and a hand rested on his torso. His senses returned and Ichigo felt a dull ach from his wrists as he opened his eyes, staring at Yumichika with complete abandon. His arm felt unfamiliar as he lifted it, placing a hand over the elegant fingers of the fifth seat, curling his own around them. Yumichika lowered his head, smiling as he stared at the display of affection, before rising.

Making his way to the door, he turned, taking another flower from the vase, bringing it to his face and breathing in the scent. Without a word he left, the sliding door closed, Ichigo listened to the sound of graceful feet disappearing down the hallway.


End file.
